Light of Life
by Machlassie
Summary: Seven years he has waited - waited for the time when the Gods would deliver him his retribution. Years of wallowing in self despair, of seeing her face, and his crime played out, behind shut eyelids, he was prepared to accept whatever fate had for him. But while he sees his soul tar black, another, and many more, see a glimmer of light hidden beneath his cold, hardened exterior...
1. Chapter I: Hell's Passageway

**Chapter I: Hell's Passageway**

It all started with her.

Ke'ri…

Born in Chon'sin, much like himself, she was just a simple girl of humble beginnings. Her parents were mere laborers; working day in and day out only to earn just enough to throw food on the table for a single night. It was a tale many of those in the slums were familiar with, but for a few, the story gets better. Every few months, the king's vassal would arrive to the town and offer a position of a court lady to those girls whose appearances stood out.

Ke'ri was not one of these girls. With her frail, curve-less figure adorned with weathered garbs, faded black hair, and pale skin, she blended in with the masses that populated the slums. They saw nothing special in her. In their eyes, all they saw was an impoverished girl, plain and bland to the very soul. Everyone, whether they be rich or poor, couldn't see much in her which made this young man believe that perhaps he was blessed with a superior set of eyes.

While the others around him disregarded her, he saw a light that everyone else seemed to be blind to… He saw in her the light of life. While others were simply going through the daily routines of trying to survive the day, she was living. She had dreams and wishes, a desire to fulfill. She was a diamond in a beach full of rhinestones… She was blazing with fire, a torch burning with life…

A torch whose flame would one day burn out…

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

The sudden jolt of the wagon caused Lon'qu to slowly peel open his eyelids, the raucous gently arousing him from his light slumber and greeting his nose with the odor of hay and droppings that had been forgotten during his nap. Despite being asleep for only a few minutes, the air around him had changed. The bit of sunlight that peeked in between the metal bars was a deep orange, a sign that it was either dusk or dawn. The swordsman couldn't recall. To him, being locked in a cage for the past seven years, there was only nighttime, the sun being a once-in-a-lifetime blessing.

Along with the change in sunlight, the temperature had also dropped, causing goose bumps to grow along his bare arms. Having been born and raised in Chon'sin up until his adolescence, he had grown accustomed to the cold, preferring the chilly air to the summer heat of Plegia. But nowadays, the cold only seemed to bring about memories that were just as barren and unkind as the landscapes it produced. The sunspot just a few feet from him beckoned for him to settle in its rays, but he refused the offer, choosing to remain in the cold damp corner.

He cast his eyes downwards to where his hands rested. Metal chains and cuffs kept his wrists bound; bruising and scarring the tissue beneath it. They served as a reminder of his past sins, of the single life he took that led him to his current state. This was his retribution for his crime and, from the very moment the snow was stained red with that young lady's blood, he accepted it as long as she could rest in peace.

The wagon continued on its trek for another hour in silence; the sunlight gradually fading with each passing minute. Within two or three more hours, they would be blanketed in darkness. If that should prove right, then their destination must be nearby as Lon'qu doubted his coach would want to spend the night in the middle of nowhere with a hardened criminal as his only company.

He shut his eyes, planning to nap for the rest of the trip, but was ultimately startled awake as the stallions pulling the cart released a whinny and the carriage was thrown about, resulting in the prisoner being tossed about against the walls. "Out of the way!" The driver had called out seconds before he steered haphazardly. Before Lon'qu could comprehend what had happened, the coach, probably rightfully outraged, yelled out, "What the hell's your problem woman?!"

The term "woman" made Lon'qu flinch as he returned himself into an upright position. Through the weathered down walls of the wagon, he heard a meek voice say, "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Her footsteps were so light, Lon'qu's keen sense of hearing couldn't catch her approaching, but when she spoke next, her voice sounded as if she was just on the other side of him.

"We're fine." The man tried to wave her off, anxiety lacing his voice as he watched her near his cargo. "Just what were you thinking jumping into the middle of the road like that?"

"I'm so sorry! I can be rather clumsy and I must've just… stumbled…" She replied lamely.

There was a slight pause then as the Plegian man eyed the woman up and down, wondering if he could take her word or if she was simply boozed. With the cloak she had covering her head, he couldn't get much of a look at her face and determine if there was any deception behind her eyes. Eventually he gave the reins a gentle flick and released a huff. "The ground does get icy this time of year," he patronized, "Watch your step from now on."

"Oh, um, of course," she bowed her head. "Thank you."

As the wagon went about its course, the violet eyes of the young lady followed it. It was not often Ferox received outsiders, especially now since the war broke out between Plegia and Ylisse; travel was far too dangerous and one could easily be mistaken as an enemy. Tightening her cloak about her, she decided to ponder the thought at a later time. Right now, the sky was beginning to drop tiny snowflakes from the heavens and if she didn't make it home in time she would be trekking through a good foot of snow.

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

Upon returning home, Olivia was greeted with a smash as a bottle of mead met with the floor, the raucous of laughter laced with booze, and the usual banter between Basilio, the owner of this tavern, and his wife, Flavia. She knew little of what they were arguing over back behind their counter there, but as odd as it seemed, Olivia preferred to come home to their voices shouting to and fro. The pub would seem just a tad emptier if they weren't. Indeed though, it was a wonder how they were still together…

Their faces were near pressed together when Olivia caught sight of them. Basilio, towering a good foot above his wife, stared her down with a menacing glare. Old as he was, he was a well of wisdom. Originally a soldier for the Feroxi Kahns, he decided to settle for the simpler life and put together this guild where the hopeless and homeless, in Olivia's case it would be the latter, could have a place to consider home. He was a true representative of Feroxi ancestry so despite the kindness he emitted, one would be a fool to cross him. Even with a single eye, his glare never failed to silence and strike fear into the grown men that often misbehaved in his tavern.

But Flavia was not a force to be reckoned with either. Despite being a tad shorter than her dear ol' hubby, she definitely wasn't lacking in the height department when compared to other women. She was blessed with an athlete's body, one-hundred percent slender muscle, while also possessing a well-endowed chest and sharp curves that represented her womanly side. Sharp tongue and witty nature, should their ever be a gamble on who would win in an argument, one could bet their entire life savings on her without a single doubt.

"Don't think too hard," Flavia sneered, pressing her nose closer to his, "You may sprain your brain…"

At this, Basilio's nostrils flared, displaying his obvious frustration. "Keep talking woman. Someday you'll say something intelligent."

"Oh, so a thought crossed your mind just now? It must have been a long and lonely journey."

They continued like this for another few minutes, each one trying to best the other while Olivia, who had now settled down near the fireplace, discarding her cloak on the coat rack, waited patiently for them to finish. One would be a fool to step in between their squabble. It was one thing to have them arguing with each other, but a whole other thing when they ganged up to yell at you. It would definitely lower your morale and forget about the idea of having any self-pride afterwards.

As she waited, the aroma of bread baking wafted through the air and found its way into her nostrils. Though Flavia was handy with an axe, her skills with a rolling pin and kitchen knife were equally up to par. Having not had a bite since she left for her walk through town hours ago, her stomach yearned for its share.

Pulling away from Basilio for a brief second, Flavia caught sight of the blossom-haired girl for the first time since her return and acknowledged her. "Ah, Olivia. When did you get back?" As if they hadn't been bickering just seconds before, Basilio turned to the oven and pulled out the golden loaf while Flavia went about preparing the roasted rabbit and potatoes. "Come take a seat," she called over, "You must be starving."

Olivia couldn't resist the tempting offer and within seconds found herself seated at the bar, the two lovers setting her dinner before her. As usual, the dish was piled high with meat and hardly a speck of green was to be seen. A traditional Feroxi dinner. "And don't forget something to wash it all down," Basilio said, slamming a brimming tankard down beside her meal. "Ferox's best ale!"

Olivia stared at all of it in awe, wondering where she should take her first bite. "I… appreciate it…" She replied, slyly pushing away the booze before it spilled into her mashed potatoes. She wasn't one for drink, being the natural lightweight she was, but she feared the reaction she would receive should she let Flavia and Basilio find out. Feroxis took pride in a lot of things, but their mead was definitely listed in their top five.

The night continued on in carefree abandon but slowly, as the hours ticked away, the noise, banter, and laughter began to subside. The tavern's number of occupants had been cut in half; those remaining now lying on benches, tables, and the ground in a deep sleep. Of course the room was left appearing as if a tornado had gone through and the only ones left to pick up after them were the only two left awake.

"Sheesh," Basilio grumbled, making his way over the unconscious bodies littering the floor, "What are we, their parents?"

Flavia, who had just deposited a load of tankards and dishes into the wash basin, caught sight of Olivia with her head resting against the counter as she peacefully slept away. Unlike the others, she had done her share of chores as the bar she rested upon was nice and tidy. Flavia rested her hand upon the girl's cheek and brushed away a few wisps of stray hair that tickled her nose. She passed her a smile and whispered to her still-grumbling husband, "I'm sure to some of them, we are…"

Basilio stopped in his steps and stared at his wife. Her face was all gentleness as she pampered to Olivia like a mother would to her daughter. The sight of her in such a nurturing state made him wince as he forced himself to turn away. "I'm gonna' call it a night," Flavia said, proceeding to take Olivia into a piggyback position. "You coming, oaf?"

"And leave the place like this?" He gave his tavern another look over. Tables and chairs were still overturned, spills that were still in need of being cleaned, and loads of kegs and dishes that still needed to be gathered littered his pride and joy. Regardless, Flavia watched him discard the towel he was using to clean a table and begin making his way up the stairs. "I'll put the boys to work tomorrow…" He yawned as he beat her up to their shared bedroom.

Tucked beneath her down blankets Olivia shivered as the bitter cold wind beat against the walls of her room. After Flavia had delivered her to her bed she had failed to fall back into peaceful slumber as the cold continued to nip at her skin. Blizzards were a common occurrence here in the north where there was hardly any other season but winter, but it never stopped Olivia from enjoying a good night's rest. Yet tonight, the cold seemed abnormally unbearable and through her restless night, she dreamt of the wagon she had encountered earlier that day…

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

The wagon didn't reach its destination until the late hours of the night, a little past midnight. They parked beneath a canvas covering supported by crisscrossing branches. That the structure was still standing against this blizzard was a miracle.

"So you made it, eh?" Lon'qu heard a voice from outside call. "Glad to see the weather didn't get to ya'!"

The driver scoffed as he hopped off his seat, his boots meeting with the snow. "Who the hell does Gangrel think he is, making me travel to this Godforsaken place with this luggage?"

"I wouldn't let him hear that if I were you…" The other man chuckled lightly as he rounded the wagon to reach the back. "Now how about you take the horses to the barn while I take care of the rest?" There was a gentle rustling of chains as the mares were taken from their reins and the sound of crunching snow as they were led away. The remaining man fiddled with the padlock keeping the wagon gates closed. With all the noise, Lon'qu could bet he was trying to guess which key he had went in. There came a "Aha!" from the other side and soon the doors were pulled open, revealing a soldier donned in red at the entrance.

"D'you enjoy the trip?" He asked with a cold grin on his face. He boarded the wagon to approach Lon'qu who had yet to peer at the man. The man squatted down so he was level with the prisoner and eyed him with the curiosity of a cat. Lon'qu had yet to response. "Not much of a talker, eh? Well that's alright; we didn't bring you here for your pretty voice." He gripped the cuffs that bound Lon'qu and hauled him to his feet. Resting his hand on the scruff of his neck he roughly led him outside where they were greeted with a blast of cold air.

Lon'qu couldn't distinguish much through the sheets of white that blew around him, but he had no doubts that their current location was nowhere near any inhabited villages. His escort allowed him the chance to study his surroundings, even introducing him to the area. "What you see is Feroxi land; a frozen hell made just for the barbarians who thrive here." He smirked as he leaned down and whispered, "If you listen closely enough… Through all the howling of the wind, you can hear the cries of the deceased…"

Lon'qu wanted to ignore him, shrug off his words as a pitiful attempt to strike fear into him. Until he heard them… Distinct cries that echoed through the air. Twisting his head to the general direction of the noise, Lon'qu's eyes widened in shock at what he had suddenly set his sights upon. It was a mighty tunnel formed from rocks and mud, lit up by torches that stood their ground against the fierce weather. From this tunnel was where the cries echoed.

"So you see it now," the soldier smirked. He gave Lon'qu a push, signaling him to proceed forward. "Grima's Court."

"G-Grima…?!" For the first time, Lon'qu spoke up, immediately garnering the attention of the guard.

"Surprised to hear the name outside of Plegia?" He chuckled darkly, "You'd be amazed at how many followers Grima has gained over the course of the years. Courts like these are being built all throughout the country; right beneath the noses of these Naga-worshipping Ylisseans." He then gave Lon'qu a rough push, sending him crashing into the snow.

He pushed himself up by his chained forearms and ended up gazing into the dark tunnel that seemed to have no end. It was like a passageway to hell, in which the cries of the forsaken would accompany you. He felt the soldier's boot land on his lower back and his dangerously cold voice whisper, "And it will be in this court that you will be tried and punished by Grimleal Law. For your sake, pray that Grima will see you innocent…"

He had evaded death for so long, he wondered when the Gods would cast their judgment upon him. Thinking back on it now, perhaps he was turning to too merciful of Gods as the one who waited on the other end of this tunnel, Grima, was more than willing to grant him the punishment he deserved. Lon'qu shut his eyes, letting the moans fill his ears. For the blood on his hands and the life that sat upon his shoulders, it was indeed a fitting end. And if this meant she could finally rest in peace…

"Then so be it…"

The prisoner, bound and chained, took his first step into the passageway. The torches that lit up the chamber crackled beside him, but with one gust of wind they were blown out, leaving him to walk the path in complete darkness…

**Chapter I: END**

**A/N: Thanks for giving this chapter a read! Honestly, I didn't even want to make this story because let's be honest; with my track record, when am I going to finish it? But I had a lot of inspiration go into this plot and I feel it'd be a waste if I didn't do something with it. And c'mon, it has Flavia/Basilio romance! Well, while I'm on a roll I'm going to start the next chapter, so see you at the next update! (Hopefully in the next few weeks…)**


	2. Chapter II: Grima's Court

**Chapter II: Grima's Court**

The snow didn't let up once during the night. It was the conclusion Basilio came to when, upon opening the front door, came upon a wall of snow leveling well with his kneecaps. Staring up at the grey sky of early morning, he watched the fluffy particles from above continue their relentless descent to earth, adding to the already formidable pile. "Damn…" He muttered, his breath fogging up before him. It was routine of him to wake up just before the break of dawn and head into town. It didn't matter whether there was rain, sleet, snow, or hail; the weather wasn't going to be stopping any travelers from stopping by his tavern and it was his obligation to feed them. Looking over his shoulder at his wife who was currently getting the oven and fireplace heated up, he asked, "Olivia still asleep?"

"Mm." Flavia responded with little enthusiasm as she concentrated on loading the firewood into the oven. "The light sleeper as she is, I wouldn't doubt if the wind had kept her up all night." Once her pile of wood had disappeared into the masonry, she dusted her hands off and, for the first time since waking up, took note of the snow. She plucked Basilio's fur coat, handcrafted by none other than her, off the coat rack and handed it to him at the doorway. "Will you be alright heading into town alone?"

Oddly enough, one of the biggest difficulties of being married to Flavia, outside of their bickering and arguing, was responding to her when she was concerned. She hid it well, but having known her for over two decades, and being married to her for a little more than half of that, her emotions were an open book. And he could detect the slightest anxiety in her even during their current instance when she spoke with a calm smile and an even calmer tone.

He slipped on the coat she had offered him and planted a lazy kiss to the top of her head. Contrary to what all of Ferox may say, there were plenty of moments, albeit outside of the public's eye, where they got along like a civilized couple. If they quarreled and fought as much as they let on, they doubted their marriage would have survived for so long. "I'll be fine," he mumbled when he pulled away. "Just keep the fort down, won't ya'?"

"Will do," she chuckled, helping him with a few buttons on his coat.

When he was all buttoned up, Basilio took the first steps out into the snow, quickly adjusting to the temperature drop. Raising a hand into the air, he called back, "See you in a few hours."

When he reached town after a little more than an hour of trekking through the snowfall, Basilio realized, upon seeing all the people up and about despite the storm, that Feroxis didn't spare a single day for rest and relaxation. Even the children, all bundled up in their winter gear and whose heads barely reached the surface of the white fluff, were plowing through to get to school. Basilio chuckled at their doggedness as they didn't show any signs of surrendering.

It wasn't until the majority of the children had marched by that Basilio noticed the last child who lagged behind the others. He held his school books above his head as he treaded through the blasted snow, careful not to get them soaking wet. He was a lot shorter than the others but so his vision must have been clouded as the path he was creating sent him crashing headlong into Basilio's legs.

Peeking up at the brute with big green eyes, he said in an unperturbed tone, "'Scuse me mister. I gots to get to school. Can you point me in the right direction?"

As the young boy gazed up at him waiting for an answer, Basilio couldn't help but to guffaw. As the supposed runt of the litter, the child was just as dogged as the others. "You ain't gonna' get to school on time with those short legs," he said scooping the child out of the snow and placing him onto a broad shoulder. "Let ol' Basilio help you."

Forgetting all about his morning chores, Basilio carried the boy all the way to the school building, the other children he had spotted on the way following in his footsteps as he carved out a path for them. Dropping the boy down, he patted his head with a big hand and said, "There ya' go kiddo. And right on time."

The lad was digging into his coat pockets as the other children headed into the building. With a tongue hanging out, a sign of his concentration, he managed to retrieve a little wrapped chocolate which he presented to Basilio. "Thanks again mister."

Basilio stared at the offered chocolate for a few seconds before laughing once again. "I'll take it," he said just before the lad ushered inside to join his friends. With a small smile on his lips, Basilio opened up the wrapper and dropped the chocolate onto his tongue.

"I never took you for having a sweet tooth, Basilio," a deep voice spoke out.

After chewing and swallowing the sugar-loaded candy, Basilio faced the bearded man and responded, "Not exactly, but it does seem to taste just a little better when it's been warmed in a child's hand." He began walking towards the general direction of the shops, aware that the armored man was only a few steps behind him.

They appeared to be like brothers, sporting the same tan skin, gruff features and Feroxi berserker build. It seemed the only major difference in appearance was the black hair Basilio lacked from the other. "So what brings you down here to the city, Largo?" Basilio asked as he hauled a sack of potatoes onto his shoulders, "The kingdom walls becoming too suffocating?"

The man furrowed his bushy brows as he frowned at Basilio's back. "Unlike someone I know, I don't sneak out of my duties to enjoy in some mead with the village folk." At this, Largo received a snicker from the other man, making him shake his head. "Honestly, Basilio, even after all these years, tales of your tomfoolery are still just as popular among the boys as they were all those years ago."

"Is that right?" Basilio laughed.

Largo nodded. "You were always the troublemaker among us; rowdy and rambunctious… Maybe that's why it was such a surprise when you announced your marriage to Flavia. We had thought if the time ever came when Ol' Basilio would give up his womanizing ways, it would be with a sweet, pleasant lass. But then again, you never did like taking the easy route and I doubt the quiet ones would be able to keep up with your frustrating ways. Thinking back on it now, Flavia was just right for you."

Basilio scoffed. "She's nothing more than a pain in my arse if you ask me…" Frankly speaking, that was half of the truth. He settled down on a post and stared up at the grey clouds that darkened the town. "To think it's been that long since that day. I could go on and on about what's transpired since. Ah, but I'm sure you don't have the leisure time to listen to an old man talk about his life."

Reluctantly, Largo agreed, aware that he should be making his way back to the kingdom anytime soon. "Unfortunately, yes. As I failed to mention earlier, I came here strictly on business to check in on the townsfolk after last night's blizzard. But it seems there was no need to worry as they seem to be doing just fine."

"You think a little extra snow will discourage these folks? Ha! Look at 'em."

Largo nodded his head as he watched the town proceed with their daily duties despite the weather. "The kingdom was hit pretty hard. We practically had to dig our way out of the front door this morning." He let out a sigh as if recalling the chilly morning he experienced before continuing. "But I guess compared to what the rest of the world is going through, we're fortunate the only problem we're enduring is a little snow."

Basilio gave a grunt in response, recalling the day the flames of war were reignited. Since the end of the prior war, the world had been teetering above an abyss of chaos. The slightest breeze, the gentlest nudge was all it would take to send that world into an all too familiar time of bloodshed. There had been a "No Hostility Pact" between the two nations of Plegia and Ylisse, but everyone who watched from the sidelines knew it was bound to fail; that it was nothing more than a farce to delay the inevitable. And after a decade of unsettled peace, Plegia gave the push, and the world took the plunge. "Shame to know it all could have ended ten years ago."

Largo nodded. "What Plegia lacks is a leader. Unfortunately, it seems the Plegian royal bloodline is afflicted with insanity. All of them obsessed with Grima and the dark arts."

"Even Validar's daughter?"

Largo shrugged his mighty shoulders. "The estranged princess? She had enough sense to leave the kingdom; I'll give her that much. Perhaps it was her Chon'sin blood telling her to get out."

Basilio grimaced at the thought of another generation of Validar's reign. "Has the Khan decided on any action yet regarding this war?"

"His will is to remain neutral; but I'm sure you can see how difficult that is for him. With how bad the weather has been as of late, we're going to need to open our trade routes lest our people starve. And then just yesterday we had the little prince of Ylisse come to our doorstep asking for our aid. I can't say I'm particularly against the idea of heading back into war, but perhaps that's my barbaric ancestor talking for me. Others would prefer not to throw their lives away for a worthless cause and enjoy the peace and quiet behind our walls."

"I can't disagree with them. But what kind of men would we be to turn a blind eye to our allies?"

"The world's just not like that anymore, old friend. Everyone's getting tired. They just want to live out the rest of their lives in peace and quiet… You were lucky to have left the kingdom when you did…" As soon as he spoke the words, he flinched as if he had said something wrong and immediately clenched his jaw shut. Basilio stared at the soldier as he focused on his boots. "Forgive me, Basilio. It seems the older I get, the foggier the memory becomes."

Basilio returned his gaze back up to the sky and muttered solemnly, "No need to apologize, friend. It's been so long now; I'm surprised you even remembered. But you're right." The clouds, once a formidable wall of grey, were slowly being pushed apart as the sun fought for its chance to shine. "Every cloud has a silver lining, doesn't it?"

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

It was the very image of hell. Like a gladiator pit, contestants, caged behind rusted metal bars, would be released into a pit where an audience, seated comfortably up above, would watch as he fought for his life against man, beast, and monster. Should he survive his ordeal, he would be deemed innocent… But if his sins weighed heavily on his shoulders, he would be cut down, bludgeoned, or eaten alive. But should your blood seep and soak the ground, your generous offer would promise a cleansed soul to allow safe passageway to the afterworld. That was the way of Grimleal Law…

It had been a long time since he felt so afraid. Upon entering Grima's Court, he was greeted with the stench of blood, a raucous of laughter and screams, and the color red. He had entered just in time to catch the last few seconds of the latest match; a match which ended with the victor, a seven-foot armored giant, smashing the skull of his opponent – a scrawny man who appeared to not have seen a speck of food in ages. Even Lon'qu, who had never felt thinner in his life, had more muscle than that unfortunate man.

Although the crowd around him was cheering, Lon'qu seemed to be deaf to it all as his world went silent. Was this the sound you heard when you died? Was this sheer white silence the sound that fallen man was hearing? A sudden jolt startled Lon'qu from his thoughts and he suddenly found himself on his knees in the center of the arena; a new specimen for the people to marvel at. Suddenly, as if a dial was being turned up, the noise around him gradually increased until the murmurs around him became nearly deafening. It was as if he could hear every voice in the room echoing against his ear drums.

"Ah…What do we have here?" He heard. It was a dominant voice, one discernable from the rest. The others in the crowd heard it as well, as the murmurs among them immediately ceased. Lon'qu's eyes skimmed the audience to seek the man who spoke but only found himself looking at the faces of what he considered to be aristocrats looking back at him with cold, hard glares.

There was a gentle clicking of boots against hard floor, and turning his head in that direction, the young convict found himself gazing into the cold, empty gaze of a redheaded man. He held a smile on his lips, but even the most ignorant of fools could see there was no joy lurking behind it. "Are you the new convict I was expecting? The one from that… Oh, what's the name of that little country…? Kon'chon? Chen'sing?" He shrugged. "Ah, no matter. Welcome to Grima's Court, little man!"

The crowd began to cheer in response, prompting Lon'qu to grimace in disgust. Was this his atonement? To die before these people who saw his life as nothing more than a minute of entertainment? His eyes fell to his wrists where his cuffs held him. Was his life really so worthless?

"Now I'm sure you're still a little confused with how this all works," the man continued, pacing among the seats, those stainless boots continuing with their clicking, "So I'll let you kick back and take some notes. Let you get comfortable." As if on cue, two soldiers picked him up by his arms and proceeded to escort him to one of the cages that lined the arena.

As one of them went about unlocking it, Lon'qu's eyes strayed to the cell beside his and there he found himself gazing at a blonde man with an almost god-like beauty. He had his hands clasped together in prayer as his lips chanted faint words. As if sensing Lon'qu's gaze, his lips stopped moving and he slowly peeled open his eyes to look upon the new arrival. He looked out of place, Lon'qu thought, with his white robes contrasting the black of the court and his eerily calm demeanor in a situation that generated fear and death.

The man looked prepared to speak a few words to him, but Lon'qu failed to catch them – if any – as he was tossed unceremoniously into his holding. "I hope you learn quickly, little man," the redhead called from his post, "It won't be long until it's your turn to entertain!"

Pushing himself up against the wall after his rough entrance into the cell, Lon'qu watched as the arena was being cleared; the weapons being returned to their corresponding spots on the racks, the monster of a man returning to his own holding cell, and the corpse, still warm, being dragged away; a heavy trail of blood staining the ground, serving as a reminder to those encaged that there was no mercy when found guilty by Grimleal Law.

The arena seemed to calm down from the latest hype as the volume was reduced to mere murmurs. Lon'qu, amidst all the whispering, noticed a constant jingling occurring in his eardrums. There were no chimes or bells to be seen ringing and the din sounded as if it was emanating only a few inches from him. Following his ears, he cast his eyes downwards where he discovered the source of the noise. His hands, shaking uncontrollably, were causing his cuffs to rattle.

Seeing his hands shake so violently, he was reminded of the time when he first witnessed them in such a state. It was that day that took place seven years ago… He gulped as he could once again see the blood – her blood – decorate his palms. He could once again feel the thick, sticky fluid slide between his fingers while its scent of steel drifted up his nostrils. The walls of his cell seemed to be moving in on him and his hearing was once again turned off; his dangling chains the only noise to be heard.

Even though no one would hear, even though no one in this arena would care, he wanted to call out for help. But just like seven years ago, his voice was gone, his throat clenched shut by an unseen hand. He was reliving a nightmare and he knew naught of how to awaken himself from it.

But then, amidst all the ringing, a single voice, gentle – almost feminine – called out to him.

"Do not be afraid."

Four words, acting like a life ring, pulled Lon'qu out of the sea made of dark thoughts, returning him to a reality just as bitter as his hallucinations. The court, once a foggy blur in his mind, regained its regular shape and the walls of his cell were pushed back to their original positions. He was able to breathe again and the images of his past were quickly gone. Oblivious to the panic attack he had just saved Lon'qu from, the blonde man started up again. "Your soul emanates a bright light. Do not let this place diminish it with fear."

By now, Lon'qu's hands had steadied, the man's words being a source of warmth in the cold damp cell. But though his voice may have calmed the convict, there was no truth in them. Especially considering his latest visions, how could anyone say his soul was anything but dark; stained black by the lives he shortened. "Sinners need no mercy… or sympathy…" Lon'qu told the man solemnly. "Don't waste your breath on someone like me."

He recalled, within the first year of his imprisonment, all the clergymen and vicars who approached him in attempt to reform the young man. But even they – men of the cloth – were wise enough to keep away from a man such as himself as they eventually found their words and efforts bearing no fruit. The only way to cleanse a soul like his, Lon'qu determined, was to let it dwell alone in the darkness it created. And after seven years of solitude, he had grown accustomed to being alone.

"So you have committed a sin?" The other man's gentle voice reflected his inner calm which was undeterred by Lon'qu's confession. "Haven't we all? But that is no reason for us to give up on each other. After all, no one likes to be alone."

Two soldiers, Plegian evident by the ruby-red décor that donned their armor, began to approach the men's cages. They stopped in front of the cell adjacent to Lon'qu's – the one holding the man of god-like beauty – and began fiddling with the odd number of keys. The moment they found the corresponding key, they began to cackle as they began unravel the padlock keeping the bars shut. "You're up next," they sneered at the man as they began to haul him to his feet.

As he was being hauled away, Lon'qu, able to admire his virgin white garbs and glowing blonde hair, caught the man's hazel gaze and heard him whisper one final time, "I know not of the sins you carry, but the fact that you're willing to acknowledge – and regret – them already reveals the kind heart you possess…"

Lon'qu may have been mistaken, but he could have sworn he saw a smile on the man's lips.

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

When did he decide to throw away his life, his freedom, to become Gangrel's lapdog?

The man shook his head as he led his wagon through the forest. It had to be around here somewhere. He scratched his head as he scanned the rugged terrain once more, seeking out the source of the tempting scent of bread. After his latest assignment of driving the dreadful path from Plegia to Regna Ferox with a human cargo no less, Gangrel, with hardly a thanks in return, sent the man out once again. This time not for a fighter. But for a virgin.

"_You can't just grab one off the streets," _the Mad King had told him as his eyes focused on the arena where two men sliced and diced at one another. It was a surprise he could even focus when his favorite part was just about to come up._ "Validar wants only the finest."_

The man wanted to cry out his irritations, but after witnessing the loser getting sliced open, he preferred that he remain on his king's good side. _"And where, Milord, would you think I search for one without garnering any unwanted attention?"_

Vincent and Victor had told him of a renowned bar the locals seemed to favor. It was located in the outskirts outside of any village eyes and was a common stopping place for all kinds of travelers. Apparently there was a barmaid who worked there; rumored to be the most beautiful across the land. _"Snag her and you'll be living like a king!" _The two brothers had said as they tossed a few bodies into a fire; the stench of burning flesh making the man cringe.

He wasn't much for bloodshed as Gangrel was, but he loved money. And if it meant he had to cross miles upon miles of land, evade axe-swinging barbarians, or kidnap someone's daughter to earn it, then so be it. The end justified the means. And in this day and age, they were all just trying to survive.

A plume of smoke billowed out of a chimney a little distance away, alerting any stray traveler that shelter was nearby. The scent of food became almost solid the closer he got, but it wasn't food he was interested in. It was a petite dancer he wanted; the finest in all of Ylisse.

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

With Basilio still out running errands, it was left to the two ladies to tend to the bar. Flavia, who was better with the rowdy crowd the tavern seemed to attract, managed the front while Olivia remained in the kitchen helping with the food preparation. After waking up an hour and a half later than usual, the dancer couldn't help but be ridden with guilt as she thought of Basilio trekking through the snow on his own, a daunting amount of groceries piled high on his back. When she had voiced her guilt to Flavia, the woman simply laughed, telling her there was no need to be beat herself up.

Even so, it was uncommon for Olivia to sleep in as she did this morning. Even if she was up cleaning the bar until midnight or the boisterous crowd was keeping her awake until the wee hours of the morning, she made sure she was up and about just before the sun could show itself. Thinking back on it as she kneaded the dough for the rolls, she wondered what had kept her so occupied that she couldn't get a good night's rest. Last night she couldn't recall making it to her bedroom so she assumed she must have fallen asleep straight after cleaning duties which probably ended before midnight. The winds, surprisingly, failed to arouse her as she scarcely recalled hearing the pounding on her walls.

No, it was something else that she heard that had given her a restless night. Her hands stopped as Flavia pulled open the door, a squeaking noise eliciting from the hinges. It was those sounds that had startled her as they were very similar to another noise she had heard earlier… A sound similar to an ungreased hinge, like a creaking stage, like a rusted wheel…

Like an old carriage.

It was the images of that carriage she had encountered the prior day that danced in her head throughout the night. Even though it was just a simple carriage, in her dream it gave off a bad omen; as if it was Death himself sitting in the driver's seat.

With big violet eyes staring back at her, Flavia passed her a concerned look and asked, "Are you feeling alright? You look as if you've just seen a ghost."

Quickly ridding herself of the haunting images that formed in her mind, Olivia shook her head and passed Flavia a weak smile, hoping to quell her concern. It was just a dream, she thought to herself. No need to overthink the feelings it created in her. She tried to tell herself that, but her heart continued thumping with an unknown strength.

Thinking nothing more of the incident, Flavia put Olivia to work manning the tables as the boisterous crowd had grown within the last few minutes. It was definitely louder and busier, but Olivia had seen the dining room in bigger disarray before. Taking two plates at a time, Olivia made her way around the bar dropping off each of the men's meals while also receiving thanks, coin, and hoots as rewards. Shy as she was, Olivia tried to ignore their calls but when the whole tavern was cheering her, it was definitely a feat easier said than done.

Blushing red and wishing she was dead in a ditch, Olivia, while trying to avoid eye contact with all the men had accidentally found herself bumping into someone, knocking the plate she had been carrying onto the floor. "I'm so sorry!" She blurted, immediately turning to the guest. The two made eye contact and although the gesture would have made her turn away embarrassed, Olivia found she couldn't turn away. It wasn't because she was looking into the eyes of a handsome soldier who had stolen her heart at first sight, no, she admittedly found his features quite intimidating. But even with the snarl he passed her, she couldn't peel her eyes away.

Placing a shaking hand over her breast she knew she was staring at the face of the man who drove the carriage; the man who played Death in her dreams.

The man, on the other hand, couldn't believe his luck as the one person he had come across, the same person who was Gangrel's target, was standing an arm's length away from him. Though she had been hooded at the time of their first encounter, her voice, which had spoken the exact same three words to him yesterday, was unmistakable.

He smirked.

Talk about killing two birds with one stone…

**Chapter II: End**

**A/N: Yeah, I updated. Surprise surprise. I'm not going to make any promises on when I'll update again because we all know I'd break it. But on a side note, I have become absolutely OBSESSED with Libra so I had to throw him in. At first I just thought of him as the character who was a dude but looked like a girl, but after getting all his supports and playing the DLC Scrambles with him, I realized how deep of a character he really was. And no, my Libra won't be mistaken for a female. Rather, I decided to make him have a very god-like beauty equivalent to like a Greek God. Hopefully, Lon'qu and Olivia will meet soon and beware that the title of this story may be changing. Hope to see all of you guys in the next chapter and thanks for reading!**


End file.
